


Dib's Horrible Day

by Kawaii_Kitty360



Category: Invader Zim
Genre: Angst and Feels, Gen, Groundhog Day, Mild Gore, Not Beta Read, Reoccurring Character Death, i can't write dying characters or ptsd but i'm gonna do my best
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-15
Updated: 2019-10-13
Packaged: 2020-10-19 09:09:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20654714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kawaii_Kitty360/pseuds/Kawaii_Kitty360
Summary: It all happened so fast. One minute, they were at each other’s throats, bickering and fighting like usual. The next, a gunshot. Zim’s body slumped against him, and Dib, bewildered, caught him immediately. They fell into the grass, Dib landing first and Zim falling on top of him. Zim had been shot, right below his PAK. Zim was dying.And then Dib woke up.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> idk where this came from or where this is going, but i appreciate y’all coming on this journey w me
> 
> also: I know this idea doesn’t really work, since the body is just a container for an Irken’s mind, but uhhhh
> 
> Let’s just ignore that :}
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

“Why won't you just give it a rest, Zim? Your plans are futile- I’ll stop you, no matter what!”

“Is that supposed to be threatening, Dib-stink?! You have only succeeded in stopping less than half of all my plans!”

“That’s because you self-sabotage the other half!”

“Bah! This conversation is boring me!”

The night was thick around them- so thick that Dib could barely see the faint silhouette of Zim’s raving form, just barely illuminated in the pale moonlight far above their heads. They stand upon a hill, one that overlooks the city, high enough that even the tallest buildings are dwarfed. They always went up there to fight, away from the rest of the world, where only their voices were heard. It made things easier- no neighbors to tell them to shut up, no passing cars to drown out the sounds of their voices-- only them, and the ambiance of nighttime critters. 

Once they were done fighting, they would collapse in the grass and stargaze until they were tired. Sometimes, Dib would accidentally fall asleep, but more often than not, he would wake up at home. Granted, it was usually face-down on the lawn, being woken up by Gaz kicking him in the ribs, but sometimes it was actually in his bed, with the window still open and scratch marks underneath his windowsill. That night would be no different, Dib knew that much. 

“It’s only boring you because you know I’m right!”

“Absolutely not. It’s boring me because we’ve had it a million times already! You are an, ehh-- what’s the phrase… broken record, Dib!”

“Wh-- b-- so are you!! All you talk about is destroying me and the world, but that’s all you do, Zim! You just talk!”

“Hah! Talk to this!!”

Zim pulled himself onto his PAK legs and Dib glared, daring Zim to do something. Moments later, Dib’s glare turned into a confused gawk as Zim began digging into his pockets before pulling out--

Dib screamed in annoyance as Zim held up his middle fingers, a huge smirk on his face. “Oh, real mature!” he yelled, exasperated. “I can do that, too, you know!”

And here Dib was, 16 years old, standing on a hill, flipping off an alien who flipped him off first.

It was ridiculous.

“I can do this all night, Dib-smell!”

“You’re so stupid!”

“Not as stupid as you!”

“You’re twice as stupid as me!”

“Hah! You admit you’re stupid! Zim wins!!”

“I have to be stupid if I’m still standing here!!! And--” Dib scoffed and let his hands fall. “Look, if this is all we’re gonna do, I’m going home.”

Dib heard the soft _pap_ of Zim’s boots hitting the grass. “You foolish human- since when does Zim only have one trick up his sleeve?!”

“Uh… usually all the time.”

“So you would believe!!!” Zim began to walk towards him, but Dib stood his ground as he approached. They were toe to toe, Zim a whole head below Dib’s chin, and Dib quirked his brow as Zim narrowed his eyes up at him. “I’ll have you know, stupid Dib-boy, I have a dastardly plan that you will be helpless to stop!”

“Is that right.”

“It is!!”

“What is it?”

Zim paused, and in that silence, Dib heard the rustling of the bushes and a faint snapping of a twig. Common forest sounds. Dib ignored them. “Like I would tell you such information! You will just have to wait until the morning, when my package will arrive!”

“Your package, huh?” Sounded like a stakeout was due. It would probably be via alien deliveries, but, with any luck, they would still follow common delivery times. Dib would be able to get ready early and swipe the package before skool, if all went well. 

“Yes! And I know what you are thinking: you want to steal my package! Well, you cannot! AlieX delivers to a specific pad, and that pad is within my base! You have no chance of getting to it!”

“Don’t be so sure, Zim. You know I know all your security weak points. That package will be mine before you even know it’s there.”

“Oh-ho! Wrong again! The pad is behind a safe door that only I-- and GIR-- know the combination to!!”

“I’ll just ask GIR for it, then.”

“He will not give it to you!! The code is protected by a password that only I know! He will only repeat the code once the password is said!” Zim tipped his head back and laughed, the same victory laugh he always did when he was so sure he’d outsmarted Dib and won.

Dib felt his lips twitch. Zim was such an idiot. “Okay. Do you think you could tell me the password, in case you forget?”

“Oh, sure! It’s ‘Dib’s head is smelly’-- WAIT!!”

Too late. Dib was too busy laughing his ass off to be upset or find the password annoying or humorous. “God, you’re such an idiot!! You always fall for that!!”

Zim launched himself at Dib, though Dib continued to laugh as Zim clawed at his clothes, screeching about how much he hated Dib’s big head and that he would change the password once he got home, Dib-stupid!!! 

Dib laughed, and laughed, holding Zim at bay with just one hand against his shoulder. “I can’t believe you always fall for that. You _always_ fall for that- God, Zim, you’re so stupi--”

And then, just like that, everything fell apart with a violent _bang._ The sound startled both of them, effectively making Dib shut up and Zim stop flailing. Dib recognized the sound immediately. It was a gunshot.

Dib’s first thought was that it was a hunter, shooting deer or birds or something in the forest around them, but that didn’t sit right with him. Something was definitely wrong, but Dib wasn’t sure what.

Zim’s weight pressed against his hand completely, and Dib glanced at him, eyebrows immediately flying to his hairline. Even in the faint light, Dib could see Zim’s face paling, eyes growing wide. “Wh--”

Dib scrambled, hands flying out as Zim slumped forward, bending his knees to catch Zim against his chest. “Zim-?!”

“Oh, shit!” a voice called, and Dib heard footsteps rushing up on them, but he ignored them. Tunnel vision was kicking in, all his attention focused on Zim and only Zim. Dib fell backwards, keeping Zim against his chest, one hand falling from his shoulder to his PAK, cradling him. Dib’s hand slipped down the smooth metal surface, his pinky touching just below it, feeling warmth and sickening wetness. He didn’t even have to guess. He knew exactly what that meant.

Zim clawed at Dib’s arms, breath wheezing. “What-- D--”

“Shut up,” Dib hissed, and a hand clapped him on the shoulder.

“Shit, son, are you okay?! Fuck, I’m sorry, I thought-- shit, _shit!!_ Hold on, I’ll- God, I’m so sorry--!”

Dib ignored the older man above him as Zim clutched onto his coat sleeves. “What’s happening,” Zim rasped against him, and let out a pained growl as Dib pressed his hand full against the wound. Blood seeped around his fingers, coating his skin and getting absorbed by his coat sleeve. 

“You were shot,” Dib answered numbly, using his hand on Zim’s back to press him closer. Zim’s wig tickled under Dib’s nose, and he could feel sweat beading on Zim’s forehead against his chin. “You’re going to be okay, Zim. Don’t you dare die on me.”

“Foolish,” Zim grumbled to his neck. His grip on Dib’s sleeves was slipping, only his claws, digging into the fabric, kept his hands in place. “Zim can’t die.”

“You fucking idiot,” Dib puffed around the growing panic in his throat. Above him, the man was talking, probably to the police. What a waste of time. They would come too late. Dib didn’t want the reveal to go this way. It couldn’t go this way. “You’re so… you’re such a jerk, you know that?”

Zim hummed, and clenched his hands, weakly around Dib’s biceps. “Your head is… big… and stinky.”

Dib’s vision blurred, and he blinked the tears out of his eyes. “Yeah. Backatcha, space boy.”

Zim wheezed, his grip fell, and Dib woke up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YEEEHAWW


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ah, this is where we start to get a little ooc, BUT!
> 
> I'm extremely happy for all the positive feedback you guys have given me- just on the first chapter, too! i'm so glad y'all are enjoying and I hope you guys enjoy this chapter, too! thank you guys so much for the lovely comments!! <33333

A yell ripped itself out of Dib’s throat as he quickly sat up, gasping into the darkness of his room. His entire body felt cold, and he slapped a (_wet, warm, red-stained--_) hand against his mouth as he clambered out of bed, tripped down the hall, and slammed his way into the bathroom in just enough time to keel over and vomit into the toilet. 

Once what used to be dinner and then some was expelled from his stomach, Dib groaned loudly into the bowl and pulled back, flushing the toilet and reaching for a wad of toilet paper to wipe his mouth off.

There was a spit, and then a voice sounded above him, asking him in a condescending tone: “Party too hard?”

Dib glanced up to see Gaz at the sink, toothpaste on the corners of her lips and her toothbrush inches away from her face. She continued to brush her teeth, and Dib blinked at her as he wiped his mouth off. “What?”

“You didn’t get back home until late last night. At least you made it inside, though. Dad was starting to question the amount of times you passed out on the lawn.”

What? Why was she so casual about it? He watched Zim die last night- held his dying body in his hands, and there she was, bagging on him for making Dad worry? 

Dib knew it was just classic Gaz behavior, but that didn’t stop him from growing irate. “How are you so calm? Don’t you know what happened?”

Gaz spat another foamy mouthful into the sink. “No, and I don’t care. Brush your teeth. I can smell your disgusting breath from here.”

“Gaz, Zim _died_ last night.”

That got a reaction out of her. She cracked an eye open to stare at Dib with an unreadable expression. “What?”

“You heard me, Gaz. Zim got shot-”

“No, he didn’t.”

Dib choked, pulling his lips thin and pushing himself off the ground. “Yes, he did, Gaz.” Dib could still feel the dead weight against his chest, and he clenched his fists to make them stop shaking. “I watched him die.”

“Must’ve been a wet dream of yours,” Gaz snarked as she started to walk away. Wait, of course. Of course it was a dream. It had to be- right?

… 

No. No way. Dib remembered everything, and he rarely ever had coherent, vivid dreams such as that. His dreams were always blurred visions of cryptids and Bigfeets and of course there were the odd ones of Zim strapped to an autopsy table, but none of his dreams felt like _that._

No dream followed a consistent plot.

What happened last night was real, and Dib could feel it in his entire being.

There was no convincing Gaz, though, and he knew that. She’d just have to learn the hard way- the same way as everyone else. Dib brushed his teeth through blurry eyes and choked-off sobs, fighting off the phantom feeling of Zim crushed against his chest, and of blood running freely between his fingers, of claws holding desperately onto his clothes. 

He didn’t want to go to skool. Going meant that he would have to sit through all the classes he shared with Zim, painfully aware of the empty seat, knowing full well that the news wouldn’t have spread farther than teachers. No classmate cared enough to notice Zim’s absence, or even question it, but every class attended with Zim’s desk empty would solidify the fact that Zim was gone and probably being dissected on, if he wasn’t already.

There was an iron grip on Dib’s core, crushing him, churning his insides and ripping him apart by the seams. Nothing would ever be the same. Nothing _could_ ever be the same.

Dib fell to his knees on the bathroom tile and hugged himself, ripping into his pajama shirt, not too unlike the way Zim’s claws had shredded into his jacket, tearing apart the sleeves.

He sobbed into the floor for so long that their father sent Gaz up to drag him downstairs for breakfast. She didn’t say anything when she found him like that, but the gentle way she eased him out of the fetal position and guided him down the stairs was more than enough. She may not understand why he was crying, but at least she was feeling nice enough not to prod him about it. 

Their dad said nothing, either, and breakfast was spent mainly in silence. There were points when Dib would get so overwhelmed that he would drop his fork, fist his hands into his hair and fall back into hysterics, still trying to wrap his mind around the fact that Zim was gone and there was nothing that could be done about it. In those moments, either Gaz or their father, or even sometimes Foodio, would console him, patting him on the back or rubbing between his shoulder blades, or offering him a warm cup of milk (in Foodio’s case, since he, as a robot, could not feel compassion), and once Dib composed himself enough to eat without choking would they let him alone.

Once breakfast was done, Dib and his sister returned upstairs to continue getting ready for skool. At the top of the stairs, Gaz pat him on the shoulder again and said, “I don’t know why you’re being so weird today, but, uh… I guess if you have to talk about anything, I’ll try to listen.”

Dib could only offer her a watery smile and a nod of his head before they split into their respective rooms.

Dib pulled on the first pair of pants he grabbed- the same pair of fitted black jeans he wore last night, too, and though he hesitated, he couldn’t see any blood stains, nor did they smell bad (like grass or gore) and really just wasn’t up for grabbing anything else. He pulled on the same shirt, too- a light green tee (that was also weirdly unstained) that had blocky black letters that read ‘We’re Not Alone’. 

Funny, Dib really felt like he was.

He pulled on some socks and his boots before combing his fingers lazily through his hair and reaching for his coat.

He paused, staring at it and swallowing down the lump forming in his throat. Could he even wear it anymore, with the unrepaired tears and uncountable memories it held? 

Dumb question. Of course he’d wear it.

Dib pulled it on, hands sliding effortlessly through the sleeves, and he turned towards the mirror in his room to give himself a brief once-over and survey the damage when he stopped. Stared. Blinked and wiped his eyes and stared some more. He grabbed one sleeve, turning to look at it fully in the mirror, then did the same for the opposite sleeve. That didn’t make any sense. There’s no way it was patched up already. 

Dib’s sleeves were as they always had been: unmarred, unscathed, and completely whole.

Maybe it was just one of his spares. Maybe the one from last night had already been tossed, and this one was pulled from his closet and laid out for him. Yeah, that was probably it. Dib pushed it from his mind and grabbed his backpack and went downstairs to meet up with his sister and say goodbye to their dad.

Professor Membrane and Gaz were both on the couch as he came down, and Dib’s breath hitched as he noticed they were watching the news. _Reports of a crazed gun-wielding maniac up in the woods shooting and killing a kid late last night. Autopsy reports show the kid was actually an alien. More at eleven._

But instead, what Dib was made him pause, and his confusion only grew.

The woman on screen drawled, “Locals are thrilled to hear that Krazy Taco’s hit menu item, The Stinky Bean Tacitto, is making a comeback later this month!” and Dib tilted his head to the side, using his coat sleeves to wipe at his still-wet eyes.

Something about the line caused a wave of deja vu.

“Huh,” he hummed into the living room air, “they must really be thrilled. They gave this same report yesterday, too.”

Both of his family members glanced at him, but only Gaz responded with: “Uh, no, they didn’t.”

“What? Yes, they did.” What was going on?

“What’s with you today?” Gaz bit, completely opposite of how she was a few minutes ago. “You’re acting all… weird. And weirder than usual.”

Dib had nothing to say about that. He felt really weird, too- other than the weird sense of dread and apprehension about going to skool, knowing full well that Zim would never be attending again.

When Gaz stood, Professor Membrane did as well, and she let out an ‘oof’ as he wrapped his arms around her and squeezed. “Have a great day at skool, Gazlene.”

“Thanks, Dad…?” Gaz grumbled, and she shared a look with Dib as the scientist came around the couch and enveloped Dib in a crushing hug as well.

“Have a great day at skool, son! If there is anything you wish to discuss with me, I am always open for conversation!”

Yeah, that was a lie, but Dib nodded and gave his dad a tight-lipped smile. Dib’s breakdown was probably what inspired the random hugfest, and both teens walked out of the house and down the sidewalk towards the skool. As they walked, Dib’s eyes locked onto a familiar puddle and narrowed his eyes. Weird. It definitely should’ve dried up by now--

“Hey, Dib, look. This puddle looks just like your head.”

Wait, that line sounded familiar, too. Dib glanced at the puddle, noting how someone had stepped it in and dragged some of the water out, making it look just like his unruly, gravity-defying hair. Just like it was the day before. He narrowed his eyes at it. Something definitely wasn’t right here. “That still isn’t funny, Gaz.”

“What do you mean ‘still’? That’s the first time I’ve compared your head to a puddle, Dib. You’re losing it.”

Maybe he was. He wouldn’t be surprised. He definitely felt like he was going crazy, that was for sure, and Gaz was staring at him like he’d grown three heads. 

“First you start ranting that Zim’s dead, and then you have a breakdown over it, and now you’re, what, so wracked with grief that you have some kind of future vision?”

“Something like that,” Dib grumbled under his breath, hiding behind his coat lapels. He had no idea what was going on. None of this made sense. 

“That’s stupid.”

All Dib could do was agree.

As always, the walk to skool was quick, but as they drew near, Dib let himself fall back, giving himself a second to let it really sink in. Zim was gone, and it was likely that only Dib and the skool administration knew about it, if the government wasn’t keeping it under wraps thanks to Zim being an alien and all. Maybe he’d be lucky enough to get pulled out of skool by the MIB to be interrogated about Zim, since said alien was dead and Dib was the only human who knew what Zim really was. Yeah, like he’d be so lucky. 

Gaz continued walking without him, and Dib was fighting himself on going after her or turning around and heading back home when a voice called out from behind him, sending shivers up his spine and causing that same crushing feeling within him to come back. “Well, well, if it isn’t the _Dib._”

Slowly, Dib turned, eyes widening and fresh tears brimming in his eyes, and there he was. Whole, unwounded, and alive. 

Zim stood before him with a defiant smirk on his face, clawed hands (_digging, scratching, ripping his coat--_) on his hips.

“Zim,” Dib choked out, unsure if the word was even coherent. 

It must’ve been, because Zim replied with, “I am Zim-- _oof!_”

Zim grunted as Dib collided with his chest, wrapping his arms around Zim’s sides and picking him up to squeeze him as hard as he could. Zim squawked, scandalized by the sudden contact, and immediately tried to push Dib away. “God, Zim, I thought I wasn’t going to see you again--”

“Unhand me at once, vile Dib-thing!!”

Dib lowered Zim back to the concrete, and he immediately withdrew, smoothing out his tunic with a sneer. “How-- how are you even alive?”

“Eh? What kind of question is that? If this is a ploy to get me to explain how my organs work to you, I will not fall for it. You know too much already!”

Dib shook his head, wiping a hand over his face and sniffing, loudly, as he pushed back the overwhelming need to cry. “No, I-- seriously, Zim, I watched you-- dammit…”

Zim stared at him as Dib wiped the tears from his eyes. “Stop that. You humans and your pathetic emotions make me ill.”

“Like you’ve never cried before,” Dib retorted wetly, recalling the day he almost won, when Zim wailed into his carpet at the realization that his mission was a lie. 

“Of course not! Invaders never cry!”

Dib sniffed again. “Liar.”

But now this really didn’t make any sense. How was Zim still alive, when Dib knew full-well that Zim had died? It was really going to bug him. He had to figure out what was happening.

* * *

After skool, Dib finished the familiar homework assignment with ease, ate the same dinner, and spent the rest of the night researching deja vu. He already knew most of the basics, but he’d never experienced it in such vividness before. Something about how the day had gone didn’t sit right with him. He knew Zim’s death couldn’t have been a dream, but nothing else explained it. Maybe it was some kind of premonition. Maybe it was a warning. 

Dib’s phone vibrated, and he knew who it was before checking. A message from Zim, saying to meet him up on the hill. Dib already knew what was going to happen, but he still put on his shoes, dragged his coat over his arms, and left his house anyway. Maybe it was just a bad dream. Maybe things would be fine. Maybe he was just overreacting.

* * *

Nope. No way it was a dream. Dib decided that Zim’s death was 100% real, and it was about to happen again.

The realization was like a slap in the face in the form of two middle fingers being held his way. They needed to get off the hill. Immediately.

Dib didn’t even hold his own hands up, and instead whispered into the night, “We need to go.”

“Too intimidated by this Earthly gesture that you’re trying to flee, ehh?!” Zim boasted, laughing that same stupid laugh. Dread crept along Dib’s spine, and with it came the rippling of goosebumps marring his flesh. His heart pounded in his ears, and he watched, numbly, as Zim lowered himself back onto the grass and approached. Once again, they stood toe to toe, and Zim once again stared up at him, smirking this time rather than glaring. His middle fingers were still up. Dib slapped them down. A scandalized glare immediately fell onto Zim’s face. 

“No, Zim, I’m serious. We should get out of here. I have a… bad feeling about this.”

“And you should! Zim’s next plan is so dastardly that you will be helpless to stop me!”

_I’m helpless to save you._

“You will be left trembling in your stupid human boots!”

_My knees are already shaking. We have to go._

That’s when Dib heard it again: the rustling of the bushes and a faint snapping of a twig. This time, though, Dib knew better. Those weren’t common forest sounds. They were the sounds of someone coming their way.

Dib grabbed Zim by the arm and pulled him. “Zim, seriously, we need to go _now._”

“Don’t touch me, Dib-filth!” Zim growled, ripping his arm back. “You are too touchy-feely today, it’s disgusting!!”

“Zim, come on-”

“What is _wrong_ with you?”

“We have to-”

“You’re being so _difficult-_”

“I CAN’T JUST STAND HERE AND WATCH YOU DIE AGAIN!”

That seemed to do the trick. Zim froze, staring up at Dib with a weird look on his face. Dib’s fist clenched at his sides, and he was shaking. That feeling was back in his core, squeezing the life out of him and forcing soft whimpers to fall from his lips. His shoulders quaked. Tears rolled freely from his eyes, and he shoved his glasses away from his eyes to press his fingers against his eyes. “I can’t…”

“Die? Again? _Zim?_ Nonsense.” 

Dib sniffed and glanced at him. In the pale moonlight, he could make out his expression. He looked so sure of himself. Dib wanted to reach out, spin them around so Zim’s back wasn’t towards the woods. Maybe Dib would get shot, then. Or, maybe nobody would. 

“Zim can’t die.”

**BANG**

Dib’s chest seized. No. No, no no no no no no no--

Dib grabbed Zim immediately, hands clutching onto Zim’s shoulders. Zim’s body shook with the tremors that wracked Dib’s body, and Zim’s hands grabbed onto his coat sleeves. Ripping into the fabric. Grasping onto him. Again. 

So many emotions flooded Dib at that moment. Fear. Dread. Despair. Horror. 

A wave of nausea knocked him off his feet, and once again they both went tumbling into the grass. “No,” Dib heard himself croak, hugging Zim against him. “No, no no… not again… Please, not again--”

“How,” Zim wheezed against his chest, “did you know?”

“I don’t know,” Dib gasped, his entire body trembling. “I don’t know.”

Zim tightened his grip, claws digging into Dib’s flesh.

“Don’t go,” Dib mewled against Zim’s head, the words getting lost within the dense hair of Zim’s wig. “_Please--_”

The claws slid away from his skin. Dib choked, holding Zim closer, crushing him against him. No, no no no no no-- 

And then Dib woke up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh ffuckck.... o o h shitt.....


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i still can't get over how great y'all are ily so much *sobs*
> 
> i think there's something i didn't like about this chapter, but I can't remember what it is...
> 
> i'll come back and edit it later if i think of it.
> 
> for now, though, enjoy!! >:3c

Dib didn’t make it to the bathroom.

He fell out of bed and vomited on the floor, not even bothering to try and stop any of it. It got on his hands, coating his pajama sleeves, but he couldn’t find it in him to care. His arms shook, his nose burned, his eyes stung, and once the contents of his stomach were emptied, he wiped his mouth with the hem of his shirt and pushed himself off his hands and knees, falling back against his bed with a noise somewhere between a cough and a gag. 

Nothing. He couldn’t do anything to stop it. He didn’t even _fucking try._

Dib let his head fall backwards, not even bothering to hold back the crushing sorrow and regret that wrapped around his entire being. 

“Whoa, that’s disgusting.”

Dib lifted his head to see his bedroom door open, Gaz standing in the doorway, pinching her nose. He heard the line in the back of his head before she even said it.

“What’s with you? Party too hard?”

* * *

Professor Membrane told Dib that if he wanted to stay home from skool, he could. Dib said he was fine, even as he fought back tears and only ate a few bites of breakfast. Their dad had sent a couple of maintenance robots into Dib’s room to clean up, and when Dib went in to get dressed, the room was spotless and his hamper, where the vomit-covered pajama top had been tossed on his way to the bathroom, was empty. He grabbed the same outfit he had the last time, and though it felt weird to wear the same thing three times in a row, he didn’t feel like going through his closet to find something else. 

He came downstairs to the same news broadcast.

“Locals are thrilled to hear that Krazy Taco’s hit menu item, The Stinky Bean Tacitto, is making a comeback later this month!”

This time, Dib didn’t mention it. 

Once again, their father hugged them both before they left. 

When he hugged Gaz, she gave Dib a look that he didn’t return, and Dib accepted the hug with open arms.

“Have a great day at skool, son! Are you sure you want to go today?”

Dib rasped, “I’m sure,” and the kids were on their way.

Dib nearly forgot all about the puddle, until they came upon it, and Gaz nudged him lightly and teased, “Hey, Dib, look. This puddle looks just like your head.”

And, even for the third time, it did.

* * *

Dib almost didn’t wait for Zim, but he knew if he waited to see him in class, he would definitely have a breakdown and that wasn’t something the class needed to see.

“Well, well, if it isn’t the _Dib._”

And seeing him alive for the second time still flooded his entire system with relief, brought out by a crushing wave of grief that left his eyes wet and stained his cheeks red for the rest of the day.

* * *

By lunchtime, he knew what was wrong.

Every class taught the same lesson. He heard the same lecture, heard the same classroom chatter, received the same threatening treatment he had the past two days. It wasn’t that everyone was acting the same: it was that the _day_ was the same.

Dib was living his very own Groundhog Day experience, and going off the events of the night before, that day would end the same as well: Zim would die again, and there was nothing Dib could do about it.

“Zim, listen,” Dib began at lunch, shoving his tray to the side and leaning in to talk to Zim and Zim alone. “We can’t go to the hill tonight.”

“What?! Why not?”

“I, uh… I’ve got too much homework.”

“You never have too much homework. Are you trying to make bad excuses? It won’t work. They’re really bad.”

Dib huffed. “Okay, you caught me, but you have to trust me on this, okay?”

Zim narrowed his eyes. “Does it have to do with why you have been acting so weird all day?”

“Yes. Absolutely.”

Zim stared at him, and then his face split into a grin. “Okay, Dib, I _understand,_” he hummed, elbowing Dib a little. “Of course I _won’t_ go to the _hill tonight._ You can _trust_ me.” Each emphasized word was paired with a nudge or a wink, or sometimes both, and Dib grew annoyed.

“Seriously, you better not go up there, okay!? It’s for your own good.”

“_Okay!_ Seriously, you won’t _see me there._”

Goddammit. Well, couldn’t say he never tried, that was for sure. Dib rolled his eyes, but said nothing else about it, and bore through the rest of the repetitive day.

Later that night, Dib got a text from Zim, saying that he ‘WOULDN’T be on the hill and that he was AT HOME WITH GIR and that he would definitely NOT see Dib there in an hour ;)’

Dib just replied with a simple ‘k’ that was all there was to it.

A few hours later, while Dib was perusing old cryptid forums and listening to music, his playlist was suddenly cut off by his phone ringing. Seeing it was Zim, he answered, expecting a loud and lengthy eruption about how mad Zim was that Dib never showed.

What he got instead was a loud and short eruption and an announcement that chilled Dib to the bone.

“HI, MARY!!!!” a familiar voice screeched on the other end, and Dib pulled the phone away from his ear with a hiss.

“GIR? What are you doing?” 

“SITTIN’ ON THE COUCH WATCHING TV!”

“That’s… great. Why did you call? Where’s Zim?”

“OH, YEAHH… I JUST GOT A WEIRD MESSAGE SAYING THAT MASTER DIED!”

Ice flooded Dib’s veins, and his fingers twitched against the phone. No. No way. “W-What…?”

“YEP!” GIR said before he started laughing hysterically. “MY MASTER’S DEAD.” 

“GIR, I-- I think you should be sad about that!”

“OH YEAH…” and then GIR started sobbing uncontrollably into the line for a few minutes. Then GIR snapped out of it, blurting, “OKAY BYE!” before the line went dead.

Dib let the phone slide from his hand to the floor, leaning on the desk and letting the hand that resided deep within him squeeze all it could out of him, until he was a shivering, disgusting, snot-covered mess, curled on the floor of his bedroom with a migraine that came from crying too hard.

Holding a dying Zim in his arms was one thing, but knowing that Zim was out there, in the cold night, dying on the grass, alone, with nobody there for him was a completely different thing- a thing that made Dib feel even worse. He never should’ve let Zim go out alone. He should’ve gone the moment he knew Zim was going to go anyway, because even if the same thing happened- which it would definitely happen- at least Dib would be there with him in his final moments. 

Dib pulled his hands away from his arms and fisted them into his hair again, pulling on the locks and making himself feel worse with every passing second. 

He was an awful person. 

And then Dib woke up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> perhaps dib has the right idea, but the wrong execution... :thinking_emoji:


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there may not be an update next week, sadly- i haven't had the motivation to work on this a whole lot, but i'll try my best! i have the next chapter planned out and, well... let's just say it's gonna be a fun one ;}

There was a weight in Dib’s bones that kept him in bed the moment he opened his eyes. The nausea was still there, and he could feel it this time, starting low and gradually building its way up. Dib kicked himself out of bed and stumbled down the hallway, working on instinct.

Dib eased his way into the bathroom and actually caught Gaz’s eye in the mirror before lowering himself onto the floor and resting his face on the toilet bowl.

As expected, Gaz spat above him, and then asked, “Party too hard?”

Dib just sighed.

* * *

Dib didn’t dwell on the fact that Zim had died alone this last time, and forcing himself not to think about how bad of a person he was made it easier to not have another breakdown. Dib had to specifically ask Foodio for some warm milk and his father for a hug, which both gave willingly. He got dressed (in a different outfit, because wearing the same thing felt weird and seemed to be bad luck) and met his sister downstairs, so they could walk to skool.

The same news broadcast called from the television.

“Locals are thrilled to hear that Krazy Taco’s hit menu item, The Stinky Bean Tacitto, is making a comeback later this month!”

On their way, they, predictably, passed the puddle. Gaz elbowed him. “Hey, Dib, look. This puddle-”

“Kind of looks like my head, huh?” Dib finished, and Gaz stared at him.

“What’s with you? You’ve been acting weird all morning.”

“Didn’t sleep well last night,” was Dib’s lame reply, and either Gaz accepted it or didn’t care enough to press it anymore. 

Once again, the walk to skool was quick, and as they neared, Dib once again let himself hang back. Three times. Zim had died three times in a row, and now Dib was living the same day for the fourth time.

What if, one day, Zim died and life just continued? Why was he stuck reliving the same day over and over, if he was helpless to stop the ending? 

Then it clicked. Of course. He was stuck because he _could_ change the ending. Obviously, something could be done to help Zim survive. 

The problem was, Dib didn’t know how Zim died the third time. He could only assume it was the same way: a gunshot to the back on the hill. 

Dib shivered a little at the thought. God, he felt awful. He knew Zim was going to die if he went to the hill, and yet Dib did nothing to try and stop him. Frustration, annoyance, and grief flooded Dib’s throat and he dropped his head into his hands with a shaky sigh. It was settled. No matter what, Dib couldn’t let Zim go to that hill.

“Well, well, if it isn’t the _Dib._”

Dib expected it this time, but seeing Zim standing there, defiant smirk on his face and claws on his hips, was like a huge punch to the gut. He could imagine it immediately. 

The resounding gunshot, a moment’s hesitation before Zim’s knees buckled and he hit the floor. The blossoming pain, the confusion, and the panic when he realized that his body was dying. Maybe the man didn’t realize his mistake. Maybe Zim died alone on the cold forest floor.

The crushing feeling was back, and Dib was choking off his own sobs before he even realized he wanted to cry. 

Like before, Zim stared at him as Dib wiped the tears from his eyes. Only this time, he said something different: “Yes, yes, you are not the first to weep at the sight of _Zim._”

Dib could only chuckle wetly, shaking his head. “Shut up, you jerk. They probably cry because you’re so ugly.”

Zim sputtered. “You’re ugly and your head is big!!”

Dib stepped forward and once again enveloped Zim in his arms. “God, I hate you,” he blubbered, and Zim squirmed in his arms with another screech.

“Unhand me at once, vile Dib-thing!!”

Dib let his arms fall away, stepping back as Zim scrambled to get space between them. This time it was Zim who stared at him like he had grown another head, but Dib ignored it as he scrubbed his face and sniffed loudly, letting out a loud sigh, trying to fight the iron grip around his core. He could see the marks on Zim’s skin where his tears had scorched him. “Sorry,” he said, though he really wasn’t. Not in the slightest. 

This time would be different. Zim wouldn’t die that night- not if Dib had any say in it.

And Dib had all the say.

* * *

At lunch, Dib just didn’t bother getting food and instead waited at the table for Zim to join him. Dib always made it to lunch before Zim, but Zim was usually at the table before Dib made it back with lunch.

This time, Zim was surprised to see Dib already seated, and sat beside him, as usual. 

Dib immediately turned towards him, and Zim met his gaze with a raised brow. They couldn’t go to the hill. Dib would be happy never going there ever again. Instead, Dib asked him, “You wanna go to the park later today?”

Gaz groaned from across the table. “Can’t you two make date plans somewhere else? I’m trying to _eat_ here.”

Both settled with ignoring her. “Why?” Zim questioned, looking apprehensive. It was understandable. Dib rarely ever invited Zim anywhere.

“No reason,” Dib hummed vaguely. If he made it sound like he was hiding something, Zim would come for sure. “You don’t have to. Just figured I’d offer, since I’m going there myself.”

“Hm! Of course Zim will accompany you to the park!”

“Alright, cool. I’ll text you when I’m on my way there.”

“Perfect! Zim will be ready.”

Gaz groaned and slammed her head on the table.

* * *

The sun was setting by the time Dib left the house, shooting a text to Zim that he was making his way to the park. He didn’t get a text back.

If they didn’t go to the hill, Zim wouldn’t get shot. If Zim didn’t get shot, the loop would break. It was that simple.

At least, Dib hoped it was. 

There was a huge chance that, no matter what Dib did, Zim would end up dying. Maybe it was an inevitability that Dib really was helpless to stop.

There was no way of knowing. Not when all Zim’s deaths so far occurred on that hill.

When Dib stepped into the park, he was surrounded by the reds, oranges, and browns of telltale autumn. Fallen leaves scattered the ground, cleared from the walk by other people’s footfall, and Dib followed the path with his hands in his coat pockets. In the middle of the park was a small clearing that was encircled by benches, and that was where Dib decided to sit, resting his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. 

Why was this happening? But more importantly: why did he even _care?_ Didn’t they hate each other? Didn’t he want Zim dead? 

So then why was Dib so intent on saving him? 

Was it because he was selfish? _He_ wanted to be the one who killed Zim. He wanted to split him open on a table and prove to everyone that he was right. 

He wanted, and but was that all there was to it?

He wanted to kill Zim, but did he want Zim to _die?_ He wanted to dissect Zim, but if he was careful about it, Zim could survive the ordeal. He wanted to prove he was right, but not if that meant Zim had to die in the process. 

“GIR,” someone barked a few feet away, and Dib jumped, glancing up to see the alien in question and his robot companion standing a small distance away. Zim was kneeling, unclipping the leash from the collar around GIR’s neck, and when Zim stood he pointed towards the heart of the park and ordered, “go play.”

GIR squealed loudly and immediately took off towards a dense pile of leaves, and Dib watched him start scooping them all together. He seemed determined to get every single leaf into the biggest pile he could manage. Dib wasn’t sure he was ready to see the size of it. 

Zim was silent as he sat next to Dib, and, for a moment, nothing was said between them. It was kind of… nice. Serene. Just… hanging out in the park, watching GIR go crazy. But they were there for a reason. 

Dib sighed, steeling his nerves. Just being next to him, after what happened last time, knowing that he left Zim all alone to bleed out… it was almost too much. Almost. Dib took the swelling grief and bottled it away. _Later,_ he reasoned with himself. _You can feel all that later._ “We need to find a new fighting place.”

“What? Why? I like the hill.”

“I do too, but-” Dib huffed, pushing his glasses into his hair and scrubbing his face. _You die,_ he wanted to shout. Grab Zim by the shoulders and shake him until he understood. Scream it until his throat was raw- drill the reason into his skull until Zim could feel the same torment Dib felt. Every time we go up there, you die. I don’t care if we never step foot on that hill again- I can’t-- “My dad is, uh… he’s- he’s scared of. Bears.”

Zim tilted his head. “Bears.”

“Yeah. And, uh… h-he hates that I come home so late, so, uh… we need to find a place closer to. My house.”

Zim stared at him, and Dib stared at GIR. Most of the leaves from the ground were gone, and GIR had taken to shaking the trees to get any extra leaves off, even though his pile was already huge. The only way GIR could get a good jump into it would be from the treetops, but even then that wouldn’t be much, since the pile was nearly as tall as the trees around them. 

“You’re lying.”

Dib glanced at Zim, brows furrowed. “What? No, I’m not.”

“Yes, you are. Your face becomes ugly when you lie.”

Dib narrowed his eyes. “I thought my face was always ugly.”

“Yes, but when you lie, you become even more ugly. And you pick at your thumbnails.”

Dib hadn’t even realized he was doing it until Zim pointed it out, and he let his hands fall away from each other with a mumbled, “There was dirt under them…”

“Yes, uh-hmm, lie to me more, Dib-worm. You know I love it so.”

“Shut up,” Dib grumbled, shoving Zim playfully and nearly knocking him off the bench. It was easy to forget things when he was with Zim, and falling into easy banter was almost as natural as breathing at this point. But the light touch upon Zim’s arm brought back memories of clutching the same limb, using it to hug Zim’s bleeding body closer, caging him from the quick hand of Death, and all the fight drained from Dib immediately. “I can’t tell you the real reason.”

“Why?”

“It’s… dumb.”

“You’re lying again.”

Dib snapped. “I’m trying to _protect_ you, you jerk.”

“From what. _Bears?_”

“Yes, Zim, from bears.” _And gun-wielding maniacs with an itchy trigger finger._

Zim paused again, and Dib could see his growing frustration in the slight furrow of his brow. Out of the corner of his eye, Dib noticed a figure walking into the park. A man, maybe a little older than Dib himself, with blue jeans and a black hoodie, hood pulled over his head. 

His attention was drawn back to Zim when he growled out a sharp, “Tell me the real reason, Dib-boy.”

Something brushed past Dib’s face, and he flinched, turning to find a freshly fallen leaf landing right next to his thigh on the bench. He pinched its stem and held it up, spinning it around between his fingertips. How do you explain to someone that you’ve seen them die twice, and then sent them to their third death? He settled with a soft, “I can’t,” but that did nothing to calm Zim down. He didn’t expect it to. 

“Why not?!”

“Because I just can’t, Zim, okay?! I can’t make you understand--”

“Hey!”

The shout startled them both, and they glanced to see the man Dib noticed earlier standing in front of them. How they didn’t notice his approach, Dib didn’t know, but Zim spat, “What?!” and the guy pulled his hand out of his hoodie pocket.

Dib sucked air through his teeth as the switchblade was suddenly angled right at him, blade glistening under the autumn sun. It looked freshly sharpened and brand new. The tip of the blade shivered slightly, and it didn’t take much thought for him to notice that the arm holding it was trembling, too. The man was scared. Apprehensive, perhaps. Clearly new to the whole mugging scene. Dib slowly raised his hands, watching the man closely. A guy as twitchy as that could do some serious damage if they weren’t careful.

The man dragged the knife through the air, pointing it directly at Zim’s face, then pulled it back towards Dib, and so on. “Give me your wallets.”

Blood roared in his ears. Dib wet his lips before saying, slowly, “Sir, please, just-”

“I said-!” the man barked, pushing the knife closer to Dib’s face, and Dib leaned back, going crosseyed to stare at the point, inches from his nose. “Give me your wallets!!”

Zim’s eyes narrowed, and when Dib blinked, Zim was on his feet, standing between them. The man stumbled backwards, eyes wide and panicked, and Dib moved to stand as well, but Zim held an arm out, keeping Dib pinned to the bench. “You pathetic worm-baby. You think that little knife can hurt Zim?!”

Dib reached and grabbed Zim by the back of his tunic’s collar, using it as leverage to pull himself to his feet and shove Zim out of the way at the same time. “Relax. I’ll give you my wallet.”

“And your friend?” the man said, both of them ignoring Zim’s words and frantic hissing as Dib shoved him onto the bench, standing in front of him to keep him seated. Dib sat Zim down in the direct middle of the bench, so no matter which way he tried to move, Dib was blocking the way. Other than the back of the bench or the arms, but Dib would deal with that if it came down to it. 

Behind the man, GIR continued to build his pile of leaves, oblivious to the standoff happening mere feet away. 

“He doesn’t have one.”

The man looked confused. “He’s a teenager, right? What kind of teenager doesn’t have a wallet?”

“The loser kind,” Dib supplied, and Zim yelled something Dib ignored. “Please, put the knife down. We can talk about this.”

The man paused, studying Dib’s face, which he kept schooled in what he hoped was a neutral expression. He could feel his hands shaking, but he hoped the man wouldn’t notice. Any sign of fear in a situation such as this could be used to turn the tables against them. “You… you’re one’a Membrane’s kids, ain'tcha?”

Dib’s blood ran cold. “Yes, sir. Professor Membrane is my father.”

“Oh, shit.” The knife trembled. “Alright. Alright, give me your wallet.”

“Alright,” Dib breathed, slowly moving his hand towards his pocket.

A green and purple blur launched itself from Dib’s right, the force of it sending a wind through Dib’s coat and making it billow out around his legs. He didn’t even need to look to know who it was.

The man in front of him screamed. Loudly. Dib literally winced from the noise, dropping his wallet as a result, though he had no time to process this fact, nor try and catch it, because the world was stained pink.

The man stumbled backwards, hands covering his mouth and an absolute look of terror on his face. Zim swayed on his feet, and the world slowed.

Dib caught him as he fell, catching him under the arms and moving with him until the back of Dib’s knees hit the bench, and he sat, pulling Zim on top of him. Zim’s arms hung loosely at his sides, and Dib screwed his eyes shut, hands slowly skittering across Zim’s torso. With every inch up, his hand would get warmer, wetter, bloodier. It was fine, he told himself. The knife didn’t hit any major arteries. Zim would be okay. He didn’t die again. It would be--

His hand was too high when his fingers finally found the handle of the knife, and a choked off whine forced itself out of Dib’s throat. He could feel the heat of Zim’s skin against him as his tears burned his flesh, but he didn’t care. Neither did Zim. 

The knife pierced directly into his heart. It was an instantaneous death, but that didn’t make it any better. 

The man hit the ground, knees shaking and tears brimming in his eyes. He looked close to vomiting. Dib felt the same. “Shit, I-- I didn’t mean to--”

Dib pressed his nose into the crook of Zim’s neck, his entire body tensing against the familiar hold around his core. This was his fault. This one was entirely _his fault._

He hugged Zim close, curling himself around the smaller, squeezing him to his chest and sobbing into his tunic. The fourth death, but only the third that Dib was there to hold him for.

Dib sobbed himself raw, and then he woke up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh, well...
> 
> that kind of backfired, didn't it.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one feels a little stiff, but that’s because I haven’t worked on this story in a while. Fell out of the groove, y’know? Next chapter should be better. 
> 
> Hope you guys enjoy anyway!! :3c 
> 
> GORE WARNING: If you’re particularly sensitive to (not super but pretty) detailed violence/gore or anything like that, just skip from ‘nearly knocking him off his feet’ to ‘OOPS’.
> 
> Yeah, this one goes hard.

Dib woke with a violent start, sitting up suddenly and breathing heavily into his bedroom’s air. He was shaking, practically vibrating in his bed, and he grabbed the sides of his head, hunching over himself in a lame attempt to calm himself down. Behind his eyelids, sharp silver and droplets of pastel pink flashed over and over, no matter how many times Dib fought the visions off.

Stabbed. Zim got fucking _stabbed-_ in the _fucking **park.**_

His hands combed through the hair above his ears as he struggled to regain his breath. It didn’t matter. It seriously didn’t fucking matter, did it? Dib could take Zim anywhere in the city, and Zim would still fucking die. 

No. How was that _fair?_ There had to be somehow Dib could save him- somewhere that was _safe._ But where? 

Dib’s breath hitched as the pieces all fell together. Of course. He knew just the place.

His head was still in between his knees when Gaz shoved his room door open. “Whoa, what’s wrong with you?” He glanced up to see her leaning a hip against the doorframe, arms crossed, brow raised. “Party too hard?”

Dib just huffed and let himself fall back against the pillows.

* * *

Dib had it all planned out as he pulled his boots on and coat. It wouldn’t be too hard to pull off, either. It was something he did all the time- practically ingrained in his system at this point. There would be no way this could fail. It never has before- why would it this time?

Of course, that would be Dib’s luck. He didn’t want to dwell on it. 

If it didn’t work, he didn’t know what else he could try. He was putting all his chips in with this. He just had to hope it didn’t backfire.

As he came down the stairs, the news relayed the same information as always: “Locals are thrilled to hear that Krazy Taco’s hit menu item, The Stinky Bean Tacitto, is making a comeback later this month!”

Dib was getting real sick of it.

* * *

As they came upon the puddle, Dib beat his sister to the punch. “Hey, Gaz, look. This puddle looks just like my head.”

She quirked a brow at it, glancing up at him with a look.

Oh. He thought she’d appreciate that. “What?” 

“You never make fun of your head.”

“Yeah, well,” Dib shrugged, kicking a pebble out of the way. “It’s never too late to change.”

Gaz continued to send him weird looks for the rest of the walk.

* * *

Dib felt oddly confident throughout the day. Maybe it was a bad thing, using his knowledge of the day for his own gain, but he didn’t really care. He answered every question right in class, raised his hand and said what he knew the teacher was going to say. Of course, he got called a nerd a lot more- his antics earned him a hard shove against the lockers and more than one punch to the gut, but no matter what happened, he didn’t let his mood fall. This would be the last one. This was the last loop. He knew it was. 

Dib said nothing of his plan to Zim- they bantered, bickered, jabbed and jeered as they always did. Zim noted his good mood. Dib told him he was having a good day, which Zim said was odd, because he saw Dib get decked in the stomach earlier in the halls. Dib didn’t say anything else about it. Neither did Zim.

* * *

After school, Dib blazed through his homework. He chilled on the couch. He wasted time on the internet, goofed off with Foodio, spent some time in the garage tinkering on various projects he hadn’t touched in a while simply because he hadn’t the time. 

Now, he had nothing but time. 

He kept an eye on the clock. Getting too caught up in himself would ruin everything. He had a narrow time window for his plan to work, and he needed every second.

Hours passed. Dib left the garage and sat on the couch, flicking through the channels with his phone in hand. He had a timer set. Fifteen minutes before he had to leave.

Thirteen minutes.

Seven minutes.

Dib pushed himself off the couch with three minutes to spare, fully dressed and ready to go. He didn’t bother saying anything to his family as he left. Chances are, they wouldn’t even notice he was gone.

* * *

The walk was one he did mindlessly. Halfway there, his timer went off, and he silenced it with a flick of his thumb. 

When he reached his destination, he didn’t hesitate before bending to grab a rock and hucking it as hard as he could at a garden gnome. By the time the machines realized they were being assaulted, Dib was already walking around the fence, grabbing it and vaulting over it on his way to the backyard. They would be too busy trying to locate a threat at the head of the property, they wouldn’t notice Dib making his way to the back. This was, of course, just one of many different ways he infiltrated Zim’s property. It also happened to be the easiest. 

He didn’t go to the backyard, however. Pulling out a small, flat tool from his pocket, he wiggled it under the window and popped it open, effortlessly pulling himself inside and jumping over the oven situated underneath it. Easy. As always.

Zim and GIR were in the living room, sitting on the couch. The TV was on in front of them, no doubt some mindless show that GIR enjoyed. Them being distracted made Dib’s job easier.

He could have, of course, knocked like anyone normally would, but Zim would question his motives. Granted, breaking and entering was no better, but Dib had to make do. He couldn’t risk the fact that Zim might’ve installed some extra security measures in the front door, since he assumed that was how Dib primarily snuck in. Jokes on him. Dib preferred more… discreet ways. 

Such as climbing through the kitchen window, or using radio signals to slip in through the ship hangar on the roof. 

Dib slid his tool back into his pocket, keeping his hands wedged into the fabric before stepping towards the living room.

“ALERT,” Computer’s booming voice suddenly sounded, and Dib watched Zim jump in alarm. GIR shoved a handful of what looked like popcorn drizzled in syrup and topped with shredded cheese into his mouth. Dib gagged. “SUCCESSFUL READINGS OF BANNED DNA CODE.”

‘Banned DNA code’?

“How did you get in here?!”

Dib jumped a little, attention falling back on Zim. He balanced himself on his PAK legs, slinking his way into the kitchen. Dib took a step back on instinct. 

“Back door,” Dib retorted with a shrug, trying to keep an air of nonchalance about him. “You should probably keep it locked.”

“Why you-- Zim does not _have_ a back door!”

“I know. It’s a disgrace, really. You should probably invest in one.”

There was a loud whir, and suddenly a huge laser gun was pressed against the tip of Dib’s nose. Zim grinned maniacally, face grim.

“DESTROYING THREAT.”

Dib gasped, and ducked.

The gun shot, a footlong beam flying out and singeing the tips of Dib’s hair. Just his luck. Zim upped his security. However, instead of tracking his life signature, the single beam hit the side of Zim’s base and ricocheted. 

It ping-ponged around the entire kitchen, Dib and Zim ducking and dodging accordingly. The beam blasted through Dib’s coat, and knocked out one of Zim’s PAK legs. 

“Does this thing ever stop?!” he screamed, holding his head against the kitchen floor as the beam bounced back and forth against two walls at an increasing velocity. Zim mirrored his pose next to him, teeth bared at the tile.

“Yes! Once it makes contact with your enormous head! Which it will soon, since it’s such a big target!”

“Oh, shut up, you jerk!!”

Dib grabbed another of Zim’s PAK legs and, with a roar, held it up, directly in the line of fire. It crashed into the metal, going through it without resistance, but it did skew its angle and soon it was back to bouncing around in an unpredictable pattern. Dib immediately regretted his actions.

“Why are you even here?!”

Dib didn’t bother answering, grabbing Zim by the front of his shirt and pulling him closer, shielding the smaller body against his. Zim squirmed in outrage. 

“Release me!”

Dib didn’t, inching his way towards the living room. GIR was no longer watching TV and instead was cheering them on. It didn’t help.

Zim slammed his elbow into Dib’s ribs, and he wheezed, doubling over as Zim wiggled from his grasp. “Never do that again you smelly Earth-boy! You were trying to kill Zim!”

“I was not! I was trying to save y--”

The beam hit the upper corner of the room, and suddenly, Dib couldn’t breathe.

Within the blink of an eye, everything had fallen apart. There was no room for doubt: this one was _entirely Dib’s fault._

Zim’s body stood stock-still, jaw slack and frozen. Dib’s hand slapped against his own mouth, nausea nearly knocking him off his feet.

The beam hit Zim’s head at an angle, right above his left temple, scorching through Zim’s head and going diagonal, exiting through Zim’s jaw on the right. Zim’s head angled from the force of the shot, and his left eye exploded. His right eye dangled precariously from the socket. From both the entrance and exit wounds, pastel pink blood coated Zim’s skin, along with other gore-- brain and bone and _flesh._ The kitchen floor was stained pink, and Dib’s body seized as more brain matter began to leak out Zim’s _jaw._ A thick glop slipped to the floor, splattering against the tile alongside the rest of the vile mess.

The wound continued to steam.

Zim’s antennae twitched, then his body hit the floor with a sickening, wet slap. Dib followed shortly after, hunching over and gagging at the floor.

“OOPS,” he heard the computer say somewhere above them.

“MASTER’S HEAD EXPLODED!!!” GIR announced from the living room.

Dib took in a deep, shaky breath of air tainted by the scent of charred flesh. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t think. He couldn’t… he… 

He screamed, the force of it shredding his throat apart, bouncing off the walls only to nail him in the head, pounding behind his skull, digging its claws into the backs of Dib’s eyeballs, squeezing until they popped, and Dib curled in on himself on Zim’s tile floor and he screamed.

_Your fault. Your fault. This one is your fault. You killed him. You killed him. He’s dead and it’s your fault. It’s your fault. You killed him and he’s dead and it’s_

_ **A L L B E C A U S E O F Y O U.**_

And then he woke up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :}

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [we could laugh about it all tomorrow, couldn't we?](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21216446) by [pastel_x_tea](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pastel_x_tea/pseuds/pastel_x_tea)


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